


In pursuit of excellence

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [35]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Competition, F/M, Flirting, Impending Nuptials, Nerds Contemplate Wedding Nights 101, Sexual Apprehension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curufin and Fanyarë contemplate their impending wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In pursuit of excellence

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Many thanks to Elleth, who forged me Fanyarë's name. Thanks also to snartha, for making me consider a Vanyarin wife for Curvo (and for the jokes about ‘good with his hands’)  
> 1\. If these two nerds seem like they’re acting a little young, it’s because they are. I’m running with the headcanon that Curufin married ‘in youth’ (but of age, ofc), just like his dad.

“I dare you.”

“You are an absolutely appalling minx. What would your father say?”

“Probably that this is what I get for marrying a Noldo.” Fanyarë’s eyes flashed challengingly, a hint of a grin on her face as she twitched the neckline of her gown lower. “Come on, don’t you want to practice before the wedding night?”

Curufinwë rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a little himself. “Who says I haven’t?”

“What?” Fanyarë sat up from where she had been trying to arrange herself coquettishly on his bed. “Why, you little beast, this is like when you snuck into the forge after hours so that you best me in front of Aulë!”

“I bested you because I am innately more talented than you,” said Curufinwë loftily.

“Hah, you wish. And now you are besting me at what, making love to your own fist?” Fanyarë grew thoughtful. “On the other hand…if you have been practicing technique on other poor innocents who don’t listen to their fathers about flirting with silver-eyed Noldor, then that gives _me_ liberty to do the same!” She jumped up off the bed. “Who should I start with? That pretty brother of yours with the black curls and the sweet voice has been making eyes at me for months when he thinks you’re not looking…”

“What!” Curufinwë caught her wrist and tugged her back from the door as she laughed at him, her eyes wicked. “That lecherous sop, I am going to put laxative powder in his wine. You wouldn’t bed him, you told me you loathed harp music.”

“He can’t play the harp with his fingers up my – ”

“ _Minx_.” Curufinwë pulled Fanyarë against himself and kissed her. “Everyone who describes you as soft-spoken and genteel is either a shocking liar or monstrously deceived. You say such scandalous things, how can anyone call you a well bred young lady?”

“I’m as good at forging masks as you are, _Atarinkë_.” Fanyarë rose up on her toes slightly, drawing herself up to his height. “In fact, I may be better.”

“Always a competition,” breathed Curufinwë, as Fanyarë tangled her fingers into his hair. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Not with you.” She made sure his hair was thoroughly disordered before she released him and dropped back down to the bed, tugging her neckline straight again. Her expression was suddenly serious rather than teasing. “But seriously, Curvo, wouldn’t it be embarrassing if we reached our wedding night and didn’t… consummate it correctly? What if we do it wrong?”

Curufinwë dropped down to the bed beside her and leaned against the pillows. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her. “Who exactly do you imagine would know if we did or not?”

“I don’t know.” Fanyarë tugged a pillow from behind her head and wrapped her arms around it. “Your father seems like the kind of person who would figure it out, though, doesn’t he?”

Curufinwë stared at the ceiling. “Now that you mention it…”

They both fell silent, imagining Fëanáro’s disapproving glare over the marital bed.

Fanyarë shivered. “I regret the shift in topic. This is doing the opposite of making me want to practice copulation.”

Curufinwë made a face. “As is your vocabulary. Copulation? You make us sound like my brother’s breeding dogs.”

“Urgh.” Fanyarë rolled over and hid her face in the blankets. “Call the wedding off.”

“I can’t, you should see the sconces my father has made for the reception hall, and the food they have ordered, and my grandfather has commissioned a tapestry, and my mother has been practicing ice carving in secret…”

“Ice carving? Why?”

“Well, don’t tell anyone and spoil the surprise, but there’s going to be a giant ice sculpture of the two of us right beside the entrance to the hall– ”

“Curvo,” Fanyarë wailed. “I told my family that nothing tacky and Noldorin would be happening!”

“How dare you? My parents are artists.”

“Then have them forge me a chastity belt,” said Fanyarë moodily. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“No, wait.” Curufinwë caught her shoulder as she tried to tug the lacings of her gown up to her chin. “You are the most mercurial wench, I swear, you’re as good at talking yourself out of things as you are talking other people into things. Your…concept was not a bad one. I hadn’t even considered that aspect of the event, I was focused on making sure the vows weren’t overly Vanyarin influenced and that my robes wouldn’t clash with your dress, and the completion of the rings…” He colored slightly. “They’re coming along well,” he said, in answer to her unspoken question. “I’ll let you at them when it comes time to set the last stones, those ones you’ve been cutting.”

“I’ve been spying on your progress for weeks,” said Fanyarë, shrugging. “I like what you’re doing with the inlay.”

“Of course you do, it’s a revelation. But the point is…maybe we should practice. Like how we made those set of dummy rings to start, to make sure we had the concept perfected. And how we practice the recitation of the vows. And how you have practiced technique in secret for years so you can show me up in the forge – ”

“Like you don’t do exactly the same thing.”

“…But I’m not quite ready yet.” Curufinwë worried at his lip with his teeth. “I should do some reading. Perhaps some consulting. There are any number of my brothers who would be useless on this front, but Tyelkormo seems to know his way under a skirt pretty well.”

“How do you know? Do you spy on him?”

Curufinwë ignored this. “Once I am better versed in methodology, we can practice technique in situ. In the meantime, you should see what you can learn as well.”

“I _am_ a superlative student,” said Fanyarë, who was starting to look cheerful and wicked again.

“You are rather above average, I suppose.” Curufinwë glanced sidelong at her. “Not that I would ever marry a woman who wasn’t.”

“Oh la, sir, how you flatter,” Fanyarë simpered, batting her lashes until Curufinwë rolled his eyes, laughing. She assumed her regular voice again. “I think we shall be able to execute this plan well, given our inborn talents. You know what they say: The Noldor are good with their hands. And the Vanyar,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his throat that made him flush to the tips of his ears, “good with their tongues.”


End file.
